


Enough

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standing there silently as Rachel works, Kurt wonders if he should say anything to her. He’s just not sure there’s anything else to be said.</p><p>episode tag for 4x02 (“Britney 2.0"), no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

Kurt watches from across the room as Rachel picks up the roller and begins to paint over Finn’s name on the wall.

Standing there silently as she works, he wonders if he should say anything to her. He’s just not sure there’s anything else to be said. They’ve spent hours and hours sharing confidences until well into the night - and he’s still giddy about and a little surprised by them being able to do that with no parents or curfews, just the two of them living together in this city like they’d always wanted - about their hopes and dreams for the future, not just professionally but romantically, and he knows all too well that her heart is hurting.

He knows that she doesn’t understand why Finn is keeping his distance if he still loves her. He knows that deep down she doesn’t view Finn’s gift of freedom in the same encouraging way that Kurt feels about Blaine nudging him to go to New York, even though it also means they’re apart. He knows that a handsome upperclassman with a gorgeous orchid and even more gorgeous smile - not to mention the rest of him, hello - is far more appealing than an ex-fiance who doesn’t even text.

He knows that saying any of that isn’t going to help her as she steadily and determinedly covers up Finn’s name.

But still, she is hurting, and it makes his own chest ache that she is. Rachel is his family in all but name, and while Kurt doesn’t want to pick sides, and while he honors the idea of being free within a relationship to follow one’s dreams, he’s never really going to understand how Finn can expect her to continue to feel good about him without nurturing their connection or her at all.

She’s Rachel Berry. In the dictionary under the definition of “high maintenance” is her glossy, beaming headshot.

Kurt’s not sure how he would feel if Blaine had pushed him so definitively away out of love the way Finn did, but he does know that the uncertainty of it is making the pain linger for her. If it had been a clean break, as awful as that would have been, she could at least start to heal and move on. Now she’s just caught in limbo with her heart still yearning but no way to reach out to the person she wants most.

He’s pretty sure in her position he’d be devastated and confused, too, and he isn’t surprised that she might choose to close off at least some of that part of her heart instead.

She has to do it alone, he knows, so Kurt busies himself with cleaning his brushes and watches her out of the corner of his eye while she covers up her Finn’s name. Only when the hearts are obscured under Midwinter Snowfall White paint and Rachel steps back to look at her work does he walk over, coming to stand beside her.

“It looks good,” she says finally, still staring at the wall. She has that brave tone she puts on she’s trying to be strong.

Kurt nods. The color is really going to brighten the feel of the space; even that much of it is making the light reflect back on them in a satisfying and flattering way. “Of course it does,” he says with a veneer of casualness. “I picked it.”

Rachel chokes out a surprised laugh, and he grins a little in triumph as he puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently.

“Do you want some help?” he asks. It’s an easy enough display of solidarity. “We could prime the whole wall and have another piece of cake to celebrate.”

He hears her swallow. “No,” she says and leans into him. “I’d like to leave it like this, at least for tonight.”

“All right.” Kurt can see the faint shadow of the darker hearts bleeding through the white paint; though Finn’s name isn’t visible, it’s still underneath, on the wall and in her heart. Such deep hurts can never be covered up so easily, but they can be obscured a little and made more palatable, perhaps. “Then we can skip all of the hard work of decorating and start right in on the cake,” he decides.

Rachel laughs again, this time more warmly. She slips her arm around his waist in a sideways hug and says, “Thank you, Kurt.”

“Any time,” he tells her, meaning it, and gets another squeeze in return.

“You might regret saying that,” she replies with a faint wobble in her voice. “Now you can’t just hang up on me when you want your space. I always know where to find you.”

“I also know where to find _you_ ,” Kurt says more softly. “The cake isn’t only to stave off _your_ loneliness, you know.”

Rachel nods and tips her head onto his shoulder. “I know.”

They look at the wall for another minute, Rachel surely dwelling on Finn and Kurt thinking of his own similar sadness. While he wouldn’t trade this opportunity to conquer New York with Rachel for anything, it still isn’t everything he wants, either. He isn’t painting over Blaine’s name or letting his eye linger for too long on other attractive men, but like her he’s still stepping out every day into this big, beautiful city without the man he loves. As much as he tries not to think of it it’s not like he isn’t struck by Blaine’s absence a hundred times a day - when he hears a familiar song in a shop, when he puts together a particular excellent outfit, when he sits on a park bench on his own, when he finds a new shop to explore and has only Rachel to share it with, when he sees a cute boy in an even cuter bow tie walk by him on the street.

He can stand on his own, especially when his days are punctuated by dozens of texts and supportive, sweet e-mails and calls in both directions, but he still can’t help but _notice_ that he is.

No matter how much as he doesn’t want to linger on it, he can’t help, when faced with something like Rachel’s pain, to notice that he’s hurting, too.

Rachel pulls herself up just in time for him to pull him out of his thoughts, takes a deep breath, and says, “Cake.”

“Definitely,” he replies briskly. “On the good dishes.”

“We only have one setting that isn’t paper,” she reminds him.

“They’re still the good ones,” Kurt says because there’s nothing like a wine glass to make diet coke taste like something wonderful and sophisticated instead of something he could as easily be having in Ohio with his boyfriend.

He and Rachel talk well into the night, like they always seem to, but after they clean up and settle into their evening moisturizing routines Kurt comes off of the high of their shared experience. As he passes by with his precious kit of skin care products, he looks out the window into the light-studded night and instead of being invigorated by the New York street like usual finds himself feeling wistful and lonely that it’s only _his_ reflection - ghost pale and wavering from the uneven surface - mirrored in the dark glass.

His first instinct is to tell himself to swallow those feelings down, because he’s living in the city of his dreams and shouldn’t waste a second of his time here being unhappy or leaning too much on other people from afar, but then he thinks of Rachel who _has_ to hold back because she has no other choice.

He is strong and independent, but he is fortunate enough that he _does_ have a choice. He _can_ reach out.

Knowing that he has the ability makes him want to take it.

So when Rachel puts in her earplugs and bundles herself off to bed, he curls up on his mattress, picks up his phone, and dials Blaine’s number. It’s late, but at least he can hear Blaine’s voice on his voicemail message and leave a good morning of his own. They might be apart, but he might as well enjoy what he can of having a boyfriend.

The phone rings four times, but instead of kicking over to voicemail it picks up. “Hello?” says Blaine’s sleep-raspy voice, which would be deliciously appealing except for the fact that Kurt is reeling in horror, his hand flying to his mouth.

“Oh, god, Blaine, I’m so sorry,” Kurt says, because he knows Blaine has to get up early to get to school. “I thought you would have turned your ringer off when you went to bed. Did you fall asleep reading again?”

“No, I - “ There’s a little sound, that tiny groan Blaine makes when he’s stretching, and then he sighs out a long breath. Kurt can almost feel it brushing against his cheek, and his toes threaten to curl in his socks with the memory of it, with the want of it. “I decided to keep my ringer on at night now.”

“Why?” Kurt asks. “What’s wrong? Is something happening there?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says with a fond, sleepy laugh. “Stop. It’s fine. I’m leaving my ringer on in case _you_ call. Which you did. Hi.” His smile comes through the phone loud and clear, and Kurt smiles, too, both to hear it and because of how sweet the thought is that Blaine wants to be available to him as much as possible. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, and he makes himself release some of his concern. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” He reshuffles on his bed, glancing over toward where Rachel is sleeping to be sure he isn’t bothering her - and he really can’t wait until their apartment is in order and they have both proper furniture and privacy - and swallows around a sudden lump in his throat at the thought of being in her shoes instead of having Blaine’s soft exhalations at his ear. She feels lonely and overwhelmed, too, sometimes, and she can’t reach out to Finn, the person who should supposedly be supporting her the most. Kurt puts his head back down on his pillow. “Because I can.”

“Whenever you want,” Blaine assures him. There’s a rustling of fabric like he is rolling over, and his voice sounds much closer when he continues. “Are you sure you’re okay? What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine. It was a good night. We did a little painting, had some cake, Rachel had a gentleman caller who brought her a plant she will kill within the month. I was just thinking of you, and I thought I’d leave you a message so one of the first things you heard in the morning was my voice. But you picked up instead in a very nice surprise.”

Blaine laughs again, and it has a sweet overtone of delight that makes Kurt’s heart flip. “It’s after midnight, so it’s morning; I’d say your plan still succeeded. I’m hearing your voice first.”

Kurt can’t help but smile. “I’m sorry to have woken you.”

“I’m not,” Blaine says softly.

If Kurt closes his eyes he can almost imagine that they’re having this conversation from opposite sides of the same pillow, their bodies only inches instead of hundreds of miles apart, and he’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse. He _misses_ Blaine, and sometimes it is better not to think about exactly how much and in what ways. “I love you, you know.”

“I know, Kurt. I love you, too.”

Kurt’s smile wobbles as his throat threatens to close up, but he tries to keep it out of his voice. He can feel that part of him that he keeps carefully tucked away - the part that is always going to be tempted to give up New York and everything it holds for him for a while longer to return to the wonderful promises of the best warm, tight hug and of someone to live life by his side every day... not that he will, but he’s _tempted_ \- threatening to unfurl and take over his heart the longer he talks to Blaine with his dreamy, sleep-saturated voice that begs to be experienced in person, so he says, “Go back to sleep now, though. You have to be up in a few hours.”

“Okay,” Blaine says around a yawn. “You, too.”

“I’m going to bed as soon as I hang up.” He curls his hand around the phone, presses his face into his pillow, and memorizes the gentle rhythm of Blaine’s breath.

“Okay. ‘Night.” He can hear Blaine falling back asleep even as he speaks.

“Good night, Blaine.”

Kurt thumbs off the call and holds in the phone in his hand for a long moment, not quite ready to put away the last remnant of the connection between them. He loves talking to Blaine, but it’s still hard when it hits him how far apart they actually are. He has so much at his fingertips in this city, so much that he desperately wants, but not his boyfriend.

It’s okay, they can both do this, but it’s better when he isn’t thinking about it so much. It’s better when he doesn’t think about what he can’t have by being here and focuses on what he can instead.

Rachel coughs from across the apartment. Kurt is startled out of his reverie and freezes for a second, but for once she doesn’t seem to be making a pointed comment, just clearing her throat.

Trying to shake himself out of his melancholy mood, he reaches out to plug his phone into his charger and reminds himself firmly that it could be a lot worse. Unlike her he’s lucky enough that he can always just call the person he loves, his best friend again tomorrow.

Kurt smiles a little when his phone lights up as it starts to charge and illuminates the lock screen picture of Blaine just looking up and noticing him from across the room, his eyes bright with the joy of seeing him.

He and Blaine might be apart, he might be free to follow his dreams even though it hurts a part of them both, but he still has Blaine when he needs him. He has that support, that love, that understanding, that tenderness, even that companionship, albeit at the moment only from afar.

He still has Blaine.

It’s good. It’s enough. Even on the hard days, it’s more than enough. It has to be. It _is_.

Rolling over and sighing into his pillow as he tugs the covers up over his shoulder, he takes the memory of Blaine’s drowsy voice and the smile that goes with it into his sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I am and would like to remain unspoiled for the season ahead. Please do not tell me anything! Thanks! <3


End file.
